rpgfandomcom-20200222-history
Nivi's journal Entry 5
When the troll called me, he sounded very excited. “No, you just have to delete those messages, Torgo,” I explained. Again. But he is insistent. “It not the Nigerian Finance Ministry again,” he told me. “I have great offer, all expense paid vacation.” “Uh huh,” I replied, not really listening. I was thinking about getting my next manicure with some of those new, mood-sensitive nail tips. How do the fashion deprived know if they are happy without them? If I am sad, I’d like people to see it by glancing at my designer, pale-blue tinted fingernails. My friend Trish got all her hair done. Since she is a bit manic, it can be very disturbing watching the moods wash over her hair. Sometimes I think that girl has some sort of attention problem. Where was I? Oh yeah, the troll. He was telling me about this vacation package, all expenses paid, comfortable lodgings, island paradise. Blah, blah, blah. I’m not sure why he’d think I’d care. Was he planning to make me watch his vacation trideo after? I started thinking of excuses to avoid it. The next think I knew, he was telling me that he wanted all three of us to go. Like I want to hang out with my shadowrunning team socially. So not going to happen, Mr. Stinksalot. And the last time I went anywhere with him, was that awful wedding. Sure, I bought him a gift a while ago, but it was only one of those pine-scented car deodorizers. I was hoping he’d take a hint. Of course, he routinely gets trailed by rotting corpses, so his smell isn’t that bad in comparison. Still, not someone I’d like to hang out with. And our other companion James “Mr. McStabStab” Randrell seems to exist for no other reason than to drag us to greasy hamburger places and stab things. I hate to tell you about his clothes. He seems to think lime green goes with anything. Ugh. I resolved not to answer my comm. After all, I need my shadowrun team to make money and find more information about my parents, and eventually even the troll will get the idea that I don’t exactly want to spend my free time with him. So I tell him, “Well, I’m a pretty busy, but I’ll check my calendar and get right back to you on that.” After we disconnected, I set my comm. to route messages from him automatically to voice mail. It beeped again immediately. It was my “Uncle” Kwong, who keeps calling to ask for more information about the vampire politician we unveiled a while ago. He can’t know that my team found out about her and released the information to the media. He certainly can’t know that we tracked her down and killed her. So I tried my best to answer his questions: “Where did you get that video? Do you know who killed her? Are you in danger? Do you have any more touchy information? Does it have something to do with your job?” and on and on. He doesn’t seem to believe my answers. Alright, they are outright lies, but that doesn’t mean he should realize it. I’ve known him since I was five, and by this time, you'd think I'd know how to fool him. You’d also think he’d be much more gullible. After all, the man is in politics. This time, he wouldn’t take my evasions. “Nivi, I want straight answers from you. Where did you get that video? Don’t you know how dangerous vampires can be? If her enclave finds out about you being involved in any way…” I tuned him out, still thinking about my nails. Suddenly, my heart rate doubled and my hands went all sweaty. “What did you say?” I interrupted him. “I said, I’m coming over tomorrow night and we will deal with this, face to face. I’m tired of hearing that you can’t tell me any more information.” Uh oh. My thoughts raced. There is no way he would believe my story, that I found the video in my handbag leaving that new elf dance club downtown, if I have to repeat it looking in his eyes. “Tomorrow? I can’t tomorrow. I’m going away on vacation with friends. Long commitment and they’d be devastated if I didn’t go.” So I lied. The man scares me and seriously, his fit just then was nothing comparable to what it would be if he learned I’m shadowrunning. And that’s how I ended up on a smelly boat, with the troll, Bernie and Mr. Stabby, who, for some reason, was dressed in a blinding, Hawaiian shirt. Does he seriously think “vacation” means “pull out your ugliest clothes and go wild?” I thought at the time that the weekend could not possibly get any worse. I hate being wrong. Back to Layflat Shadowrun